


Winter Game

by TheGreatCatsby



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blackfrost - Freeform, everyone skates, figure skating AU, the olympics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2014-02-16
Packaged: 2018-01-12 17:30:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1193646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGreatCatsby/pseuds/TheGreatCatsby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki's going into the Olympics with something to prove.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winter Game

**Author's Note:**

> I've gotten really into figure skating, and I'm a big fan of the figure skating AU. So here's another small contribution. 
> 
> Loki and Natasha are both singles skaters.

“They are brutes who’d rather hit each other than create anything of beauty on the ice.” 

Natasha glanced sideways at her companion, Loki, who was leaning forward on the bench and frowning at the hockey game currently taking place on the rink. They had practice later, and Natasha had suggested that they watch a game. She was regretting it. 

“They’re talented,” Natasha said. “In their own way.” 

“They like you,” Loki pointed out. 

That was true. The hockey players tended to give Loki and other male figure skaters a hard time. But Natasha knew that wasn’t the only thing weighing on Loki’s mind. Loki’s adoptive brother, Thor, played hockey. 

Natasha and Loki had been practicing together for years. Loki was from England, but he trained with Natasha because they shared a coach in Russia. They were both singles skaters, and therefore they both demanded a lot of individual attention. Especially Loki, who seemed more often than not to never be satisfied with his performances. 

One of the hockey players slammed into the wall in front of them and Loki sighed. 

“They’ll win the gold,” Natasha said. 

Loki raised an eyebrow at her.

“We all support each other,” Natasha told him. 

Loki shrugged. Despite being from England, he didn’t really feel much kinship with other skaters from his country. He’d always been a loner. He hadn’t even talked to anyone else on the figure skating team. Natasha was half convinced that he only talked to her, and half the time she wasn’t around to talk to. 

The hockey players shuffled off the ice and Natasha and Loki stood up. They’d changed a long time ago, and now Loki shed his jacket and made his way to the edge of the rink to watch the zamboni smooth away the mess the hockey players had made. The ice would be clean once again, so that they might carve their patterns into it. 

“Three days,” Natasha said to Loki. His shoulders stiffened. “Ready?” 

“Of course,” Loki said, not looking at her. He wasn’t. She could tell he wasn’t. They both knew it and he would never admit it, but a few minutes later he was on the ice and they had to forget, for a moment, that the Olympics were in three days. The only thing that mattered was this practice, now. Thinking beyond that would get them nowhere. 

**

Natasha found herself roomed with Loki in the Olympic village. He’d gotten there first, taken the bed by the window, and had spread out his things all around the room. Natasha moved some of his clothes and made a space for herself. She didn’t mind rooming with Loki, but he could be a bit…intense. To put it mildly. 

Loki came into the room in a whirlwind of emotion. He tossed his training jacket on the bed and kicked his shoes off, then turned to Natasha and said, “Thor is here.” 

Natasha frowned. “Yes, he’s competing for America.” 

“He retired!” Loki cried. “I saw him practicing. Wait—“ he glared at her. “You knew, didn’t you? You knew and you didn’t tell me—“

“You don’t take these things well,” Natasha pointed out. 

“When—?” 

“A few months ago,” Natasha said. “I thought you didn’t care.” This last statement was delivered delicately, but Loki looked as if she’d hit him. 

“I don’t,” he said. “I just don’t want to see him here.” 

“There’s quite a few people I’d rather not see here but that doesn’t mean a thing,” Natasha said. “It’s part of the competition.” 

Loki collapsed like a rag doll onto his bed. “We have practice early.” 

“Yes,” Natasha said. 

Loki closed his eyes. “When people retire they should stay retired,” he muttered. 

Natasha ignored him and continued unpacking. 

**

The thing about Loki was, he really wanted a gold medal. 

Every athlete wanted a medal, preferably gold and preferably at the Olympics, but for Loki that medal seemed to be a statement about his worth as a person. A worth that he felt he didn’t have yet, as far as Natasha knew. Loki’s last Olympics had been spent trying to prove to his father that he was just as good of an athlete as Thor. His father had never taken Loki’s desire to skate beautifully seriously, even though Natasha couldn’t see how anyone could look at figure skating as anything other than terribly difficult. 

But the pressure got to Loki. He fell during his free skate, and came in seventh. Meanwhile, Thor’s hockey team got the gold, and that hurt. A lot. Not only did the skating world see Loki as a failure, but his father didn’t even take him seriously. 

It should have stopped there. But in the following weeks it came out that Loki was adopted from an investigative journalist who had been following Thor and Loki as high profile athletes during the games. Loki seemed to think that this was the reason he’d never been praised for his choices as much as Thor was lauded for his. And so Loki had left his family, went to train in Russia, and it was at that point that he and Natasha met. 

Natasha was just off a silver medal, and she had always been good. Terrifyingly good. She wasn’t, technically, competing against Loki, but her talent made Loki defiant. He wanted to work harder. He didn’t want to be a failure in practice. He wanted their coach to see him as a top-level athlete. He wanted the world to see it. Mostly, he wanted his father to see it. 

Natasha thought that Loki’s issue was that he tied up his whole sense of self worth in the sport. It wasn’t healthy. Loki spent the next four years killing himself to improve. But he could never get rid of that self hatred. Instead of releasing his emotions through skating, he let it become contained within him. 

And if he didn’t win in this Olympics, Natasha actually feared for what he might do. 

**

“I think I’ll go for the second quad,” Loki said. 

Natasha sighed. It was a huge point of contention between Loki and his coach—to quad or not to quad? She didn’t have to worry about doing that kind of jump, though she wanted to try just to know whether she could. The quad was seen as a sign of peak athleticism, of manliness, and Loki wanted to do two in his free skate. It was hard enough to do one, especially for him. He was thin, but he was tall, and that tallness worked against him at times. He was a good jumper, but he hadn’t perfected his quads. 

“You’ll fall,” Natasha said. 

“You think I can’t do it,” Loki said. He sounded calm, but there was an edge. 

“It’s hard for anyone,” Natasha said. “Do you want a clean skate or the potential to mess up your whole program because of one jump?” 

“If I can do that jump-“

“If you have a clear head-“

“I do,” Loki said. He unlaced his skates and took them off. Natasha noticed the blood on his socks, something they all had to deal with. As he began changing the bandages on his foot, she also noticed his hands, and how bony they seemed. 

“You should think-“

“How many triple axels are you doing in your program?” Loki interrupted. He finished bandaging one foot and moved onto the other. 

“That isn’t the point,” Natasha said. “I don’t have family here.” 

“And that doesn’t bother you,” Loki said. 

Natasha shrugged. “It’s never been an issue. I got used to it.” 

Loki pulled on his socks again and it took her a moment to realize that he had reached for his skates. “You aren’t skating for anything, then. Is that right?” 

Natasha watched him pull on his skates again, even though they’d finished practice. “You can’t be serious,” she said. “We’re done.” 

“I need more time,” Loki said, with something like desperation. He stood up. “Are you truly skating for nothing? Is that easier?” 

“I’m skating for myself,” Natasha told him. 

Loki walked out the door. 

**

Natasha didn’t see Loki in their free time, and she assumed it was because he was spending all of his extra time on ice. He shouldn’t have been. He should have been resting, but it occurred to her that he’d been stealing extra ice time for the past few months already. The only reason it bothered her now was because the stakes were so high, and because she was now rooming with him. 

She ran into Thor unexpectedly in the lobby of the ice arena the next day. He was dressed in his hockey gear, minus the skates, and he looked like the quintessential picture of the perfect athlete everyone wanted to cheer for. She felt bad for Loki in that moment, having had to grow up with that. 

Thor noticed her and smiled. “Good afternoon!” he said, giving her a wave. “Natasha Romanov, yes?” 

Natasha nodded. “Thor Odinson.” They hadn’t met, not formally, but anyone who paid attention to winter sports would have known who they were. “Nice to meet you.” 

Thor was still smiling. He had a very nice smile. Very sincere. “You are the favorite for the gold this year,” he said. 

Natasha smiled back. “As are you. How does that make you feel?” 

“Like winning,” Thor said. His easy confidence was almost overwhelming. He leaned closer, then, smile fading a bit. “I hear you train with my brother.” 

“Not my brother,” Loki would have said, but Loki wasn’t here. Natasha nodded. 

“How is he?” Thor asked. 

Natasha thought about her answer. Loki would have said that he was fine, but Loki lied about his state of being quite often. “He’s putting a lot of pressure on himself,” Natasha said. “He wants to win. He doesn’t want a repeat of what happened last time.” 

Thor nodded, sadly. “I would love to see him win, and be happy.” 

Would a medal really make him happy? Natasha thought. To Thor she said, “To that end, I have to ask you a favor.” 

“Yes,” Thor said. 

“Just—don’t see him until after he competes. I think it wouldn’t be good if he was worried too much about you being here beforehand. He’s very focused, and it might cost him to break that focus.” She let that sink in. “You understand, don’t you?” 

“Yes,” Thor said. “I don’t want to affect Loki’s performance in any negative way if I can help it.” 

Natasha smiled at him. “Thank you.” 

“It’s just,” Thor said, as she was about to turn away, “we haven’t spoken in years. I’ve tried, but he is so angry. He resents me, and he’s said hurtful things. I fear we can’t go back to the way things were before. He says he is not my brother.” 

“You might not be able to,” Natasha said. It was blunt, but she tended not to tip-toe around things if she could help it. 

“I know,” Thor said. “It’s what I fear most.” He sighed. “Thank you, Natasha. Perhaps I will see you again these games, and in better circumstances.” 

He walked off, and Natasha hoped that, for Loki’s sake, if she and Thor again met they’d have more to talk about than Loki’s failures on ice. 

**

A harsh crash sounded against the door just before Natasha meant to open it. She paused, and heard another thud, a bit muffled, and decided that whatever was going on, it was probably best if she put a stop to it. 

She opened the door and stepped inside, closing it quickly behind her as something else made a crashing sound. It wouldn’t be good for either of them if the other athletes thought something bad was going on in their room. 

Which it was. Loki was throwing things. Mostly his shoes, but some of his clothes. His bed covers were strewn across the carpet, and he was mid-throw of a sneaker when Natasha cleared her throat. 

“What?” Loki snarled, but he let the shoe drop to the floor. 

“What’s going on?” Natasha asked. 

“Oh.” Loki walked up to her. His eyes were burning, and his face was too pale. “You don’t know? Did you not care enough to watch the competition today?” 

The short program. Loki’s first skate of the Olympics. She hadn’t been watching because she’d been training. “What happened?” she asked. 

“Fourth!” Loki cried. “I’m in fourth!” 

Natasha stared at him. “Fourth is not bad.” 

“It’s not good enough,” Loki snapped. He reached down, picked up the shoe off the ground, and then made to throw it, but Natasha grabbed his wrist. It felt strangely fragile underneath her grip, bones too prominent. 

“You can still get a medal,” she told him. “But not like this.” 

Loki’s breathing was harsh. He dropped the shoe again and swallowed. “No,” he said. “There is no winning. Not for me. Thor is here. He will win.” 

Natasha didn’t like the hollowness that was starting to creep into his voice. Loki angry was better than Loki empty. “You and I both know that fourth isn’t out of the running.” 

“Tomorrow,” Loki said. “There is only one chance. Do you remember what happened last time?” 

She did. The whole world did. And of course Loki was feeling it sharp as ever. 

Loki pulled his wrist away from her and muttered, “I need to practice. Late night—I think there’s some ice—“

“No,” Natasha said. “You’ll hurt yourself. You’ve been practicing so much. Too much.” 

“Not enough,” Loki said. 

“It is enough,” Natasha insisted. “You need to eat, to rest—“

“This is all I have!” Loki cried. His voice rang in Natasha’s ears, and his eyes widened as he realized what he’d said. He paled and darted out of the room, and Natasha heard the bathroom door shut a moment later. 

She could hear him being sick, and it scared her. She wasn’t easily scared, but she knew Loki was pushing himself too far. And if he didn’t get what he needed, she had no idea what he would do. She went to sit on his bed, thinking. Her competition was days after his, and she was confident. She couldn’t really talk about crippling self-doubt and hatred because those days were in her past. She’d learned how to measure her worth in things other than skating. Loki hadn’t. 

Loki still saw the world in terms of how inadequate a part he played in it. 

Half an hour passed before Loki came out of the bathroom and made his way over to his bed. He lay down, curled on his side, looking too thin and too tired and too defeated. Natasha knew, as she stroked his hair, that when he stepped on the ice tomorrow, he would look prepared, ready to fight, athletic and confident. He was good at lying to the audience, to the judges, but not to himself. 

Whether he performed was another matter entirely. It could be hit or miss, and Natasha knew that Loki’s mind was full of misses. He’d spent years thinking about and preparing for this moment, to prove something to his not-father, to his not-brother, to himself. And what if he missed? What if he failed, fell? What if he couldn’t rise again?

There were dried tears on Loki’s face and he didn’t close his eyes even though they’d turned off the lights. He was shaking, slightly, and he whispered, “I don’t want tomorrow to come.” 

As Natasha ran her fingers through his hair she thought, no, she didn’t want tomorrow to come either. But she had wanted many tomorrows not to come and they always came, and she had to face them. She and Loki would face this tomorrow as they had all the others. 

Hopefully, tomorrow would bring Loki what he needed.


End file.
